So Tired

I was an early bloomer. I had breasts blooming by the time that I was ten years old. It was no surprise to anyone that I looked five or six years older then I was. What ten year old has breasts, let alone a size B? It has been a curse my whole life. The following story may be convoluted, as I am trying to drag up memories long buried.

The first time I went to Horizon House was before Western Academy. I don't know how I got to Horizon House the first time. Maybe it was because I had run away from the foster home. It was after all a home for runaways. I don't remember who took me there, or any of the staff that was there, I recall, nothing except for what took place one night.

The only thing I can remember of the building itself was that when you first went in, you were in a living room that had a winding staircase. If you went farther you came into the kitchen. Up the winding staircase were the bedrooms. I know from experiences farther in the future that there had to have been at least two bathrooms and a staff office somewhere, but damned if I can remember where they were now.

I don't remember any of the routines, or any of the staff. I don"t even remember any of the other kids, except for one.

I do remember it was dark. I was on a small bed, alone in a room. I curled myself up into a ball and hugged my teddy bear to my waist. I was so tired, so afraid of what was going to happen to me. My eyes drifting shut as I felt the familiar pull of sleep. Sleep had always been my friend. Always taking me in, soothing me whenever things got bad.

I fought against the nightmare, the ties that were holding me down fast. I felt confusion lance through me, something was wrong. This time the monsters from my dreams were really going to win. I couldn't move. I couldn't wake up. I couldn't scream. My tongue felt thick and my head felt odd, but I finally managed to drag my eyes open.

I was staring straight into the face of boy named John. His face was the only thing I could see in the darkness. I tried to move, but I found his weight on top of me too much for my small frame to dislodge. He had laid his full weight on top of me. I found myself fighting, a sixteen year old boy on top of a ten year old girl. Physically I was no match.

I stared at him blankly before I asked in a very cold and detached voice "What are you doing?"

He replied "It's so hard. You looked so pretty at dinner."

Now, despite the fact that I had been molested, I had no clue what he meant by "It's so hard" and I do believe my expression mirrored that, if not, certainly my next words should have alerted him that something was wrong.

"Are you sick John?"

He grinned wickedly at me and pushed himself up, I let out the breathe I didn't even know I had been holding and felt relief flood through me. He was going to get off of me and go back to his room, or maybe find a staff member.

The fear flooded back in when the blankets were ripped from between us and I felt him struggling to get my night shirt up. A t-shirt and panties is all I had to wear to bed and it was not much covering for me.

His cold sweaty hands made me feel sick to my stomach and I started protesting. I was begging him to stop. I could barely focus. All I could think of was how it was going to happen all over again.

My body went still. I couldn't fight. What if he beat me up for fighting him? What if he hurt me? Maybe if I did what he wanted he would go away and leave me alone.

He ordered me to spread my legs. I continued to lay prone. I may not be able to fight, but I sure as hell wasn't going to help him.

I felt his nasty hands struggle with my panties, giving up when they reached my mid thighs. He was already naked and I could feel him pressing against me. Despite my resolve not to, tears began to leak out of the corners of my eyes.

He continued to whisper against my ear, talking about how hard it was, how bad it hurt, how he had to do this, how he was sorry.

I wanted to fight, to claw his eyes out, but instead, I simply laid there. I had played this game before and knew I wouldn't win. I had seen what happens on television when the girl fights back. My mind began to shut down.

I can tell you that he didn't penetrate me. He did rub himself against me until he left a sticky mess, then calmly stood up, told me if I ever told anyone that he would kill me.

I am sure at some point he walked out of my room. I don't remember him leaving. I never told anyone, until today. I wish I could say that I never saw him again but that would be a lie.

The day I walked into Western Academy, he walked back into my life.

On a side note, it was shortly after this that I began to experience night terrors. Even during all of my counseling I could never bring myself to tell anyone. It is something that I have not even told Chris. I guess there is never a good time to simply say "Oh yeah by the way when I was ten, an older boy sort of forced himself on me while I laid there."

The question becomes, if I didn't protest, is it still a violation? Does someone have to say no for it to be wrong, or is it a basic principal?

In the back of my mind I know it wasn't my fault. I know I didn't do anything wrong. Or did I? Is it my fault for not fighting back? Is it my fault for not screaming? Surely someone would have come to save me. I now know that there is a staff member 24 hours a day at Horizon House, surely I knew it then.

Ever been in one of those dreams where your mouth just opens up to scream and nothing comes out? Or maybe just a squeaking noise? I was always afraid of that. Afraid I would open my mouth to scream and nothing would come out, or I would squeak and then he would be furious and I would suffer for it.

To this day I carry a hatred for John. I wish him all the hell he inflicted on me, for this was the first time, but not the last.

I am so very tired though. I am not sleeping well. It's been weeks since I first got sick and I'm still fighting a rather nasty fever that seems to come on stronger at night. I have woken up sweating for several days now. I am groggy and disorientated. The night terrors have been back ever since I started wearing the nicotine patch.

I am tired of having to fight with life.

Just an update

I am still struggling, but I am also still alive. Thank you all for your great advice. It is hard to ask for help from anyone, even our good Lord above. I feel week and broken and asking for help seems to just intensify that.

My oldest boy who is 10 was suspended from school for taking a Swiss army knife to school. It was not something I would have ever bought him, a gift from my wise brother (yes, the same one who took them shooting while he was drunk). Of course, in today’s day and age, the schools just can not take any kind of chances and he was facing expulsion. I wasn’t angry at them, I understand, I would have expected no less if another child showed my boy a knife. I was however dismayed at the thought of being expelled for two years. However, at the hearing, the principal stood up for him and said that he is a model student, that this is the last person she ever expected this from, and I think that went a long way. He returned to school today.

Of course, my youngest boy was suspended for today for scratching a little girl. He swears that it was an accident. That he was trying to lift her up on to the monkey bars like she asked. I didn’t talk to the school yet because I have been so busy, I figured it was only one day, so he could stay home with me.

Why have I been so busy? Well, I was sick, and then, battling the depression, I allowed myself to set my homework aside. I was not only caught up but ahead for a while, now I am barely able to make deadlines and I am feeling rushed and stressed over it. This weekend I am going to get ahead by a week if I can. On the plus side, I am doing incredibly well in all of my classes.

The van is going out on us. It is jerking to the left, and my brother says it could be one of a couple of things, but all of them end with the wheel locking up if I try to drive it. So, my boss was kind enough to change my schedule at work so that I could ride with another girl. Sadly, it takes away one of my days off and splits up the others. Not really a good sign. I can’t wait to buy a new car. We are going to do that this weekend or next.

Well, I am sorry for taking so long to post again, anything and everything is an effort these days. Your love and support is appreciated more then I can say.

A Dark Hole

The darkness returns. It doesn't matter how hard I try to fight it, how hard I try to tell myself that everything will be okay, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that I am safe and loved and surrounded by people who will nto leave me.

Lies, it's all lies. It's only meant to lull me into a false sense of security. It lasted a lot longer this time then it normally does. I was blind sided, I thought I was winning, I thought that I was at least ahead.

More lies, more tears, more glass breaking. Wait, that's the sound of my heart. So much pain I can't understand where it stops being emotional and where it becomes physical.

My lesson has been learned. Keep to myself, stop loving, stop trusting, everyone leaves sooner or later. I am not worth being loved. I am broked. None of the things I do to try to better myself will make me a better person. In the end, it is my insides that are no good. I might have quit smoking, but I am too polluted for it to make a difference. Going back to school? Waste of time, I will never amount to anything. I am simply putting us farther into debt by taking out student loans.

I see a dark hole, I think that's where I am going to be for a while. Yes, I will lie here and press my face to the cold ground, breathe deeply of her earthly scent, clench her in my hands, I will not need to strain my ears to hear your happiness, your laughter. The tears will fall, turning dirt into my mud, thick and suffocating. I thought I was past this, I thought I had won. The earth, she is my friend.Yes, I think this is where I am going to be for a while.

ID Please

So, life has continued on in Nikki's life, despite the feeling that she may die at any given moment from this nasty bug. It is finally beginning to pass and alas, I shall be returning to work soon. However, I would like to treat you to some of little things that happened while on my road to recovery.

Last night, Chris and I bundled up our youngest son, leaving the two older children at home to play video games, and headed off to Wal-Mart. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Wal-Mart? Biggest damn chain in the world and they can't afford to have separators to keep my goods from being blended in with that of the woman behind me.

Now, as you all know, I am poor. It's as simple as that. I accept my lot in life because I am rich in so many other ways; however, tax season is one time that this poor girl gets to live it up a little, okay, to be honest, a lot.

As crazy as this may sound, I went into Wal-Mart for two main things. To buy my patches to quit smoking, and to refurnish our bathrooms with new towels, rugs, soap dispensers, garbage cans, shower curtains, and anything else I could find that matched my bathroom themes. Yes, Nikki is defiantly an odd cookie, but I love to shop for things to make my house look all pretty. So, there I was, shopping away, when three women came down the isle with me, each pushing an overflowing cart. They were loud, obnoxious and obviously felt that they had all rights to the store because they so kindly pushed my cart out of the way, without a second glance to my son. Before I could open my mouth to speak, the woman who was carrying a small whimpering boy in her arms began to shriek at him. I tried not to, really I did, but I couldn't help but stare. The woman was yelling at this small boy about how he better shut his fucking mouth because he was driving her fucking crazy and she'd had about all the shit from him that she was going to fucking take. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearing 11 o' clock in the evening and again I stared at her, as did my boy. Before I could gather my wits and fury enough to jump in and get the crap kicked out of me for putting my nose where it didn't belong, a woman's voice came from the next isle over, shouting at the mother to shut her fucking mouth because the rest of the fucking shoppers had had just about enough of her fucking shit. Lord help me, I was trying not to be judgmental, but I couldn't help but snicker. I pulled my cart out of the isle and moved into the next one. In the meantime, the mother from hell began to scream at the unseen woman about how she should shut her damn mouth, mind her own business or she may find herself on the floor. The woman, who was in my plain view at this time, was shouting right back at the woman, daring her to come over and do something about it. Of course the woman came over to our isle, how dare anyone question her right to shout obscenities at a baby. Her big mouth nearly dropped to the floor and the foul words coming out of her mouth died on her lips when she rounded the corner and found that it was me, and an old woman in a wheelchair in the isle. Without another word the woman stalked off and the old woman and I shared a grin. She complimented me on how well behaved my son was and I thanked her and we moved on.

So, next to Wal-Mart is a Game Stop. Ah, good old Game Stop. A gamer's heaven some would say. I had fearfully dropped Chris off there with plans for him to meet me at Wal-Mart and I would take the boy with me.

Chris, being the darling he is, decided to sneak over to Wal-Mart and buy me my Valentine's Day gift early. As I've posted before he doesn't drive so it is nearly impossible for him to actually be able to surprise me.

So, in he goes, and the mad hunt for the perfect gift is on. Now, mind you, I'm a very simple girl with very simple tastes and he is well aware that it takes very little to make me happy. Hell, I'm happy to come home to a naked husband, if that tells you anything. So, alas, he finds a beautiful gift basket, wicker of course because I have a thing for wicker, and inside this perfect wicker basket is a beautiful bright red teddy bear, which he knows I'll love because it is what I collect and the bear is holding a chocolate rose in a container that is also full of chocolate truffles. Now, to show how simple I am, I had to open that right up just to see what the hell a truffle was, but alas, I begin to digress again.

Perfect gift in hand he saunters up the cash register, sets it down carefully and whips out his credit card. The lady scans the gift basket and a blank look crosses over her features and she stammers a bit before finally getting her words out as she looks up at Chris "Excuse me Sir, may I see your id please?" of course, Chris returns the blank look and replies "Pardon me?" The young lady becomes all the more flustered and says "Well, for some reason, it is asking me for your id, there must be something in the basket, you have to be 17 to buy " even as she speaks, she has picked up the precious gift and begun to inspect it. It is wrapped in cellophane, with a beautiful trio of ribbons tying it together at the top and I do believe one look at the expression on Chris' face was enough to keep her from opening it further. "You're telling me, that a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and a wicker basket require me to be 17?" To which the gentleman behind Chris calmly replies "Brother, look at that basket, she knows you are going to get laid and she just wants to make sure you're old enough." Chris simply grinned at him and flashed his id at the blushing clerk and made his way out to the van where he set the basket up so that when I went to put my purchases in, it was the first thing I saw.

I was delighted and surprised and full of love for my husband and just in case anyone is wondering, the man was right.

Pride and Prejudice

So, here I am, sick enough that I've called off work. Two hours of sleep last night, my chest feels like it has a truck resting on it, my nose feels like someone has stuffed cotton up there and I can't keep anything down. My stomach feels like I have a hot poker stirring it.

I stumble down the stairs at noon, call work, let them know I am not coming in. I curl up on the couch that Chris has so graciously vacated for me and watch him play a video game. I doze off. A couple of hours of fitful rest go by and I drag myself up and head for the bathroom to wash my face and see about fluids. With fluids obtained I return to my little sanctuary called "the couch" and I decide I better get my homework done for the week. Book in hand, pen and highlighters nearby with index cards, I begin the arduous task of trying to study.

Before long the doorbell rings and lo and behold our boys are home from school. Fretting over Mommy, I now have my every whim catered to, complete with a cool rag on my forehead to reduce fever.

Doorbell rings again and oldest boy goes to door and opens it. I can’t see who it is, but a feminine voice calls out "Tell yer folks they might wanna be getting' outside, some'ting is happenin' to yer sister"

I leap up off the couch and jam my feet into my shoes and race out the door, all the while praying she hasn't been hit by a damn car. As I reach the door that leads out of the foyer into the great outdoors, my daughter appears, looking no worse for the wear.

"What is going on?" I demand while my eyes quickly race over her to see if I missed anything the first time around.

She starts to ramble, her words tumbling over each other so badly that I can't understand what she is saying. I hear the adult feminine voice reply "Those girls were trying to beat her up" So I look to my daughter who nods her confirmation.

Now I am pissed, this same girl has stalked and harassed my daughter all year. By her own account, my daughter has never said or done a single thing to offend her. This girl has on more then one occasion struck my daughter's face. I am beyond words with fury.

I step out into the blinding sun, cold wind tears through my sweater and for a brief second I think of going back in to get my coat, then I spot our apartment manager waving at me from her van. "Hurry up and we'll catch them" she yells at me and so I grab a hold of my daughter and dash down the stairs and into the waiting van with her, off we go.

Sure enough, just up the hill from our apartment there stands a large group of kids. My daughter and her friend, who for some reason was in the car with our manager, both point out the offending child.

I leap out of the van and stalk towards her. Apparently I looked pretty scary because she started to take off. Apartment manager calls out and asks me if I want the police involved and I respond with "Might as well be you that calls the police because someone is going to"

So, to make a long and rather boring story short, I'll leave out the verbal argument I found myself, two other adults, and about ten young kids in this child over whether or not she did indeed assault my child, here is what did happen.

Daughter arrives with friend. Friend and daughter see girls approaching, begin to speed up. Friend takes a hold of my daughter’s arm and tries to steer her in a direction that is not the same one the two girls are coming from. One girl rushes them, grabs my daughter's free arm and starts pulling on her, screaming obscenities at the young lady who refuses to abandon my daughter. A struggle ensues, the violator grabs my daughter’s backpack and she uses her witty little brain to slide out of the backpack and leave it behind while running for home.

So, in the end, my daughter was physically unharmed for the most part. Young violator was served with a citation and charges are now pending for assault.

I have had to put some new rules in place, and my life will, at least for a while, be complicated by the fact that on my days off I will be transporting both my daughter and her young friend home from school. The young lady who stood by my daughter's side lives not far from us and her mother will be bringing them home two days a week. The fifth day, which neither of us were able to cover as far as transportation goes, has been solved as well by Chris, he will be going to the bus stop each week and waiting for the girls to get off the bus and her friend will stay with us until her mother can come pick her up.

I don't understand why children have to be so mean and nasty to one another. While we waited for the police to show up, several of the young men from the neighborhood stood gathered around us, many of them asked my daughter why she didn't fight back, why she ignored the girl. For my daughter, the answer was simple "It takes a bigger person to walk away then it does to stay and hit someone" I felt an incredible amount of pride for her at that moment. I can only hope that this doesn't backfire in my face.

I also felt that old familiar companion of rage creeping up next to me as I listened to the filth this child was spewing. Anyone on this planet who thinks that only white people are capable of racial prejudice is simply fooling themselves. We are a white family. We have black neighbors, oriental neighbors, Hispanic neighbors, and we get along with them just fine, yet here is a child, an eighth grader, who is issuing forth the worst racial slurs I can recall ever having had directed at me. For the first time that I can ever remember, I wanted to strike a child, this child, for what she had done to my daughter. I don't like the feeling it gave me. Had she gotten in my face there is a high likelihood that I would have hit her.

I think I need to get some lessons from my daughter about walking away.

Sick

I am so sick, that kind of sickness that makes you want to curl up in a dark hole and never come out.

Chris is taking good care of me, providing me with lots of tenderness and love as well as the food I need even if I can't keep it down.

Hopefully I will be back soon.

Monsters In The Dark

I haven't been sleeping well. I've been sick and feverish through the night which has caused my night terrors to be worse then usual.

Last night I dreamed of the man that killed my sister. I was in a house with him and my daughter was there. I had to get her out and I could feel the old familiar panic rising. I was sitting on a couch, with her head in my lap as she slept. He sat across from us in a chair. I could barely make him out because the air was thick with smoke. Not smoke from a cigarette, but from the marijuana he was smoking. I could feel my brain beginning to buzz and I slipped a hand down to hover over her face, trying to keep her from breathing it in. he is talking to me but I can’t hear the words, just his maniacal laughter. I tell myself I have to remain calm, I can't panic.

I blink as she's gone. There is a plastic bag over my head, with a tube attached to it. I breathe in and the bag is sucked against my face and my chest hurts from the lack of oxygen. My hands shoot up, but the bag is too tight, too thick for me to tear away, my only hope is to get the tube into my mouth. I breathe in again and once more the bag is sucked against my face and I can feel the tears sliding down my face. Finally my hands find the tube and I lift it to my mouth and breathe in deeply. He is mocking my efforts. The exact words are gone now, but I know that he is challenging me to save her, to do it right, to not fail her like I did my sister.

I stumble along through a doorway. I can't call out to her, but I hear her frightened voice calling out to me. "Mommy, Mommy where are you? Mommy help me, I'm scared Mommy, please help me Mommy"

White hot rage pierces my brain and I struggle to think, to recall in my mind's eye how the house looked, trying to see when I am blinded, to find a way to save my beautiful daughter. Her soft weeping reaches my ears and I begin to move faster, my mind is too clouded to help me remember, I am running into things. It is painful, but I have to find her, can't let the monster get to her, I can't let him hurt her like he did Melody. She begins to scream.

I am in a room now, the bag is gone, and everything is red and hazy. His laughter seems to come from no where and every where at the same time. I blink several times, trying to see better, and my heart stops as I see a small figure lying on a bed in the center of the room. In the center of the blood red room. I dash forward, slipping on the wetness on the floor and I scream. I scream because I know that it is my child's blood, because I know he took her from me, the way he took Melody. I don't have the strength to stand anymore; all I can do is scramble towards the bed. My hands, my clothes, everything is covered in blood now and as I reach the tiny figure on the bed, I feel a fist closing over my heart. Her eyes stare at me, but they don't blink, they don't see me. Her beautiful blonde hair is red and her frozen expression of horror tells me I was too late to save her, to late to keep her from the monster.

When I wake up I am sobbing and sweating. I am trembling so bad I can barely make it out of my bed and I hold onto the hallway wall as I make me way to her room. The tears are real now and they are sliding down my face as I struggle against my panic as I reach for the door to her bedroom. "It was just a dream Nikki. It was just a dream" I keep telling myself over and over, yet, I can't stop the thumping of my heart, or the panicked feeling I have as I open the door. Even as my gaze lands on her, sleeping peacefully in her bed, I can't stop the panic. I pull the door shut, as to not wake her and I rush for the bathroom where the small amount of food I had for dinner comes back up with a vengeance. Once done I slump to the floor and cover my head with my arms and let myself go. Let myself sob until there is nothing more left in me.

I am so tired of the monsters.